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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26139616">tunnel vision</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/popcornizuku/pseuds/popcornizuku'>popcornizuku</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>A Nightmare on Elm Street (2010), Dead by Daylight (Video Game), Stranger Things (TV 2016)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Anxiety, Developing Relationship, Friendship, M/M, One Shot, Overstimulation</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-08-27</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-08-27</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 10:34:25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,338</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26139616</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/popcornizuku/pseuds/popcornizuku</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Quentin has been doing trials for quite awhile, but there are times where it’s all just too much for him.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Steve Harrington/Quentin Smith</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>59</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>tunnel vision</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>there's not enough content for these two, and I got so desperate I kicked myself into actually writing (even if it's just a small one-shot)</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Sometimes trials go really well, everyone escapes, and there’s little to worry about. Once the adrenaline wears off, they can all continue to chat by the fire, and rest.<br/><br/>Sometimes trials just go to shit really quick.<br/><br/>Usually, this is because the killer the group gets paired with is angrier than usual. They crave blood more than anything, and several, if not all of them, get sacrificed in the end. However, there are a number of cases where the fault of a trial going haywire rests on the shoulders of the survivors themselves.<br/><br/>When Quentin was dragged into the snowy arena of Mount Ormond, he knew that this was not going to go well. He was riding off the waves of a panic attack after an especially nasty nightmare, and he barely had the time to ground himself back in reality before the Entity chose him for a trial. Just his luck, he supposes.<br/><br/>The chilly air bit harshly into his exposed skin, and there was an evident tremble in his hands. Quentin has been doing trials for quite awhile, but there are times where it’s all just too much for him. The howling wind, the chilly air, the sound of a gen exploding in the distance, the caw of the crows, the crunch of snow under his sneakers, mentally exhausted, and the drowsiness that has weighed heavily on his shoulders for years now. It’s all too much. He’s easy prey for the killer if they find him, walking around as warily as he is. Where are his teammates? Who are they facing? Has anyone been hooked yet? Where are the generators? Are there any chests around?<br/><br/>Quentin couldn’t focus on the answers to any of those questions, his brain uselessly recycling the feeling of the chill in his fingers and face. His heart was pounding painfully in his chest, and because of that, he almost misses the telltale heartbeat of a nearby killer. He panics, freezing up, frantically looking around him. He spots the flying hair of the Spirit, and swears under his breath, as he takes off. It might have been smarter to hide in a locker, since she hadn’t spotted him yet, but he wasn’t thinking straight right now. He made sure to make his trail hard to follow, before ducking behind a tree. His breath was coming out short and fast, and he begged his body to calm down and let him think. His teammates have only gotten two gens, they still had a lot they needed to do. Okay, he just needs to make himself useful. Find a gen, or maybe a chest. Just do something.<br/><br/>His limbs wouldn’t move, but the restless feeling in his chest only expanded and encompassed him. Move, move, move, he needs to go. The Spirit could find him any minute now. He’s wasting time. He’s not helping anyone. He’s useless, he’s just as useless as before, <em>he couldn’t save them, he couldn’t save Nancy</em>—<br/><br/>“Quentin?”<br/><br/>He barely heard his name being called, only snapping to attention when they shook his shoulder gently. Quentin’s eyes slowly honed in and focused on the friendly face before him. It was Steve Harrington, wearing a jean jacket and bright yellow gloves. His brow was furrowed worriedly, as he patted his shoulder, “You okay? Are you hurt anywhere?”<br/><br/>Quentin swallowed nervously, shaking his head, “N-No, I’m not. Hurt, I mean.”<br/><br/>Steve offered him a small smile, “Good. Let’s go, I saw a gen before I found you that we can work on.”<br/><br/>The insomniac let out a shaky breath, finally stepping away from the tree and gripping the cross around his neck tightly, “Okay. Lead the way.”<br/><br/>Steve gestured towards the direction they were going, and showed Quentin to a generator tucked behind a rock. As they knelt down and began working on it, aided by the toolbox Steve has, he asked, “Do you know what we’re up against? I think they got Jake, since I found this toolbox laying somewhere. I lost track of Adam when he decided to distract the killer while I worked on a different gen.”<br/><br/>Quentin blinked blearily, shaking his head, “Sorry, what was the question again?”<br/><br/>“I was wondering if you know who we’re up against.”<br/><br/>Quentin nodded, “It’s the Spirit. She got close to me, but didn’t spot me.”<br/><br/>Steve sighed, “Well, that’s good. She’s not the worst. I think we’ll be okay. Right?”<br/><br/>He wished he could share that enthusiasm. How Steve could maintain it, he has no idea. He decided against voicing his doubts, and is blessed from the other man pushing for an answer by the gen lighting up. Steve grabs a hold of his wrist, tugging him along, “C’mon, two more left!”<br/><br/>A distant scream caught their attention, and Steve swore, “Shit, she got Adam.” He had Quentin face him, pointing towards the lodge, “I think there’s a gen in there. Take the toolbox and start on it. I’m gonna get Adam.”<br/><br/>Quentin felt panic squeeze his heart, and he shook his head, “A-Are you sure? What if—“<br/><br/>Steven gave his shoulder a squeeze in a comforting manner, shooting him a blinding grin, “It’ll be okay.”<br/><br/>Before he could protest any further, the toolbox was shoved into his chest and Steve was off. Quentin thought about running after him, but knew that wouldn’t be of any help. He needed to get to that generator. Quentin tried to sort out his messy thoughts, but with little success, he just prayed that the Spirit wouldn’t find him. He doesn’t think he could out run her, not with how frazzled he is.<br/><br/>He doesn’t understand why, but Steve helped calm the storm raging in him. Maybe it’s because the survivor has always been nice to him, or because he was the kind of person to never leave a teammate behind. Or maybe it’s just Steve’s natural charisma and charm. He doesn’t know, but without him here, Quentin found himself struggling to focus on anything around him. Get to the lodge, just get to the lodge. Trudging up the snowy hill, he made his way into the old and crumbling building. He set the toolbox beside the generator inside, but before he even laid a hand on it, he froze. His head shot up in the direction of the scream. It was Steve. He knows it’s Steve. Did he unhook Adam? Are they both stuck? Is the Spirit looking for him?<br/><br/>He couldn’t leave his friends to die on those hooks. There was no way he could get two generators done and the exit gate opened by himself before the Spirit got a hold of him. He needed to help them. Quentin’s vision practically tunneled towards the distant aura of Steve, rushing for him recklessly. Maybe if he had been more careful, he could have saved him. Just as he made it to Steve, the man’s eyes widened and he shouted, “Quentin! No! Behind you!”<br/><br/>The sharp pain was excruciating as the Spirit’s blade slashed across his back. He screamed, falling forward in agony. The Spirit grinned maniacally, cackling in her disturbing and disjointed way. Steve called for him, even trying to pull himself off the hook with little success. Quentin could barely breathe, as the Spirit chased after him. He nearly made it past a pallet, but the Spirit got the better of him. Her sword forced him onto the ground and she easily picked him up with her supernatural strength. She growled, carrying him to a hook and watched him wriggle and scream. He could distantly hear Steve desperately trying to get off the hook, but it was no use. The Entity came forth and Quentin didn’t have the strength to fight it off.<br/><br/>The feeling of being sacrificed was never pleasant, and it was probably the final straw for Quentin. As soon as his eyes reopened to the foggy sky and the distant crackle of the campfire, he shakily stood and walked far away from the noise of the others. He pressed his back against the bark of a random, far away tree, brought his knees up to his chest, and wrapped his fingers around his necklace. Taking deep, shaky breaths, he tried to calm down and ignore the fading pain of the Entity and the Spirit’s sword cutting into him. He was shivering, despite the cold of the snowy field disappearing. As embarrassing as it is, he thinks there’s tears in his eyes, too.<br/><br/>It’s all his fault. If he wasn’t such a useless teammate, wasn’t such a reckless idiot, they all wouldn’t have died. It’s all his fault. A hundred different ways that trial could have gone better runs through his mind and his heart sinks at the idea of facing his friends. Thank God it’s quiet out here, or Quentin might have lost it.<br/><br/>He doesn’t know how much time passes with him just wallowing in his thoughts, but he nearly jumps out of his skin when he suddenly hears his name being called, “Quentin! Quentin!”<br/><br/>Said man curls tighter into himself, his heart in his throat. Steve is just about the last person he wants to see right now, shame and fear weighing heavily on him. As nice as Steve is, he knows he’s willing to call people out when they screwed up. Him and his friend, Nancy, could get scary sometimes. It’s clear the both of them have been through a lot, so they’re not intimidated by the other survivors. Plus, Steve apparently has experience dealing with kids, so he knows how to take charge. He has a feeling he’ll be getting a lecture from him once he’s found. The thought of hiding crosses his mind for a moment, but it really wasn’t an option. Quentin’s clothes may be dark in color, but his pale skin makes him easy to spot in the sparse woods. There wasn’t much to hide behind and he’d make too much noise anyway. He had to accept his fate. Steve eventually set his eyes on Quentin, and to his surprise, he sighed in relief as he approached, “There you are. Are you okay, man?”<br/><br/>Quentin wipes at his eyes, and shrugs, “‘m fine. Are you okay?”<br/><br/>Steve took a seat next to him, but still left some space between them, which Quentin appreciated. He ran a hand through his hair, sighing, “I mean, the trial could have gone better.” He winced, about to apologize, but Steve smiled, “Or, it could have gone worse.”<br/><br/>Quentin narrowed his eyes at him, “How? We all got sacrificed.”<br/><br/>“Well, getting to the exit gate, only to be dragged away, usually sucks. Or, hell, she could have had a mori.”<br/><br/>He huffed, shaking his head, “It still went awful. And... I’m sorry.”<br/><br/>Steve gave him a confused look, tilting his head, “Why?”<br/><br/>Quentin sputtered, gesturing with his hand, “Well, if I hadn’t fucked up so bad, we might have made it out.”<br/><br/>“You can’t blame yourself—“<br/><br/>“But, it is my fault! If I hadn’t recklessly ran in to rescue you, maybe we could have made it out.”<br/><br/>“Quentin,” Steve shook his head, “Placing blame on anyone is just going to make us all feel shitty, so let’s just point fingers at the one actually at fault. Y’know, the Entity.”<br/><br/>“But—“<br/><br/>“Also, I could tell you weren’t really there,” Steve paused, “That might not be the right way to describe it. I don’t know, I could just tell something wasn’t right with you.“<br/><br/>He’ll give him points for being perceptive, because he wasn’t wrong. Quentin shrugged, his gaze trained to where he was fidgeting with his necklace, “I shouldn’t have let my personal issues get in the way of the trial.”<br/><br/>“That’s not fair. It’s a fucked up situation, and you deserve the time to work your own problems out without the fear of dying getting in the way.”<br/><br/>Quentin snorted, “That fear has almost always gotten in the way, even back home.”<br/><br/>Steve frowned, “What do you mean?”<br/><br/>He let himself process his slip, before freezing up. He worried his lip, trying to figure out a way to get out of explaining his screwed up past, but Steve saved him from it, “It’s okay if you don’t want to talk about it. I get it. Believe me, I do.”<br/><br/>His expression was earnest enough that he couldn’t help believing him. He wonders what Steve has been through, what horrors he’s seen. On the other hand, he’s sure Steve is also curious about him and his story. It’s a mystery for another day.<br/><br/>Quentin laid out his legs and leaned his head against the tree behind him, “Sometimes it all just gets... a bit much. And, I can’t think anymore. It was like that.” He scrunched up his nose, groaning, “Sorry. I don’t really know how to explain it.”<br/><br/>Steve rubbed his chin thoughtfully, humming, “I think I get it? I mean, I don’t know what that feels like, but I think I get what you mean.” He paused, scrutinizing Quentin’s face for a moment, before asking, “Is there anything I can do to help?”<br/><br/>Not thinking much about it, Quentin blurts, “To be honest, I thought you’d hate me for what happened in the trial, so just getting to talk to you without you being mad at me helps. Just, your presence helps.”<br/><br/>Steve’s eyes widened, repeating, “My... my presence helps?”<br/><br/>Quentin felt heat crawl up his neck, and he slowly nodded, “Yeah. I don’t know why.”<br/><br/>“Well, I’m flattered, nonetheless.” Quentin flinched slightly when Steve moved closer, and he offered gently, “I think some rest could help you. You can use my shoulder, if you want.”<br/><br/>Quentin’s face felt distinctly warm, as he nodded and shuffled closer to Steve. He leaned into his side, resting his head against the other man’s shoulder. To his surprise, he found himself drifting to sleep not long after shutting his eyes. Even more surprising was the lack of nightmares. It was some of the best sleep he’s gotten in years.</p>
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